I've Gotcha
by Kris Harold
Summary: Roy gets a nasty bump on the head, and someone needed to make sure he was okay.  Read Author's Notes, please
1. I've Gotcha

**[Author's Note]** I may submit an alternate/extended ending as another chapter later on. I don't know yet. For now, just enjoy the happiness that is my favorite FMA bromance between Roy Mustang and Maes Hughes. =) I wrote this for a contest-and I'm praying I win-and I have a few more fanfics I may be writing in the next few weeks as contest prizes, so don't be surprised if you see more one-shots from me in the near future! Go easy on me: I haven't written any fiction (no less fan-fiction) since Paper Flowers =O Anywho, happy holidays everybody!** [/Author's Note]**

**I've Gotcha  
**

Roy awoke with a start, gasping and drenched in sweat, and scanned the room frantically. He slowly recognized the dark bedroom of his apartment. He struggled to remember why he was at home and not...

Where was he last, anyway?

Slowly hauling himself into an upright position, Roy slumped forward and gripped his pounding skull and groaned quietly. He felt a patch of gauze beneath his fingers. The damaged flesh beneath the protective wall ached, despite the numb sensation of local anesthetic, in protest to the disturbance. Roy raised his free hand and coddled his cranium while he groggily attempted to catch his breath. His head pounded harder with the added stress of maintaining balance unsupported, and he groaned again.

He heard movement elsewhere in his apartment, and Roy silenced. He realized he was not alone in the apartment, and he scrambled for his bedside dresser. Fumbling noisily for the drawer holding the pistol he kept nearby for emergencies, he knew the intruder had learned of his consciousness. As the shadows outside his door drew closer, Roy raised his gun as steadily as he could manage and aimed where he estimated the intruder's torso would be upon opening the door. A sharp pain picked behind his eye left eye, and Roy pressed the heel of his hand to the eye in hopes to ease the pain.

The door handle jiggled and twisted, and the door opened slowly. The tall silhouette entered the room, and Roy barked, "Don't move!"

Pausing for a moment, the silhouette slowly reached for the light switch and a familiar voice replied, "It's just me, Roy."

Blinding light assaulted Roy's vision. He fought to see clearly, but he refused to lower his weapon. His painfully white world began to develop color, and Roy saw his best friend Maes standing in the doorway to his bedroom with his hands raised innocently to show him that he meant no harm.

After a few beats, Roy inquired, "Maes?"

"Yeah?" he replied casually.

Roy lowered his pistol to the bed. "Shit, Maes, what were you thinking? I could've shot you!"

Maes reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object; he held up the ammunition he removed from his friend's gun beforehand. "I wasn't worried," he smirked as he neared the bed and sat down. "How are you feeling?"

Rather than describing the extent of his distress, Roy asked, "How did I get here? What the hell happened?"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye came back from lunch and found you unconscious in your office. We think someone got the jump on you, but no one saw anything," Maes explained. "We took you to Central Hospital, and they said you had a nasty concussion but we could take you home as long as you had someone to keep an eye on you."

Roy dragged his fingers through his hair and released a deep exhale. "How long have I been out?"

"Let's see... it happened yesterday. You've been in-and-out for about a day or so, but this is the first time you've really been coherent. You were released from the hospital a couple hours ago, and I brought you home."

When Roy's hand reached the gauze, he removed the limb instinctively to avoid the pain. The reluctance to touch the area did not escape Maes' notice. "Yeah, I had them give you an extra shot of local anesthesia before we left, so it wouldn't hurt so much when you woke up," Maes commented.

"I think a bottle of whiskey would've done a better job," Roy chuckled sarcastically.

His friend's lips twisted upward in a smile. "Yeah, maybe." Maes grabbed the abandoned pistol and returned the weapon to the bedside drawer. "I brought Elicia with me since Gracia is wrapping Christmas presents at the house tonight. She fell asleep on the couch about a half hour ago." He stood from the bed. "Let's say we get you something to eat, hm?"

Roy twisted his nose in distaste at the idea of moving more than necessary, but he sighed and dragged his legs over to dangle off the side of the bed. Maes, unprompted, gripped Roy's upper arm for support. Roy staggered to his feet and swayed while he gathered his balance with his friend's assistance. He shuffled out the room-Maes flicked the light switch off in passing-and aimed for the nearest seat at the kitchen table. When Roy had a firm grip on the table, Maes released him and proceeded to the cabinet.

With a slight wobble, Roy lowered himself into the chair. He propped his elbows casually on the table and rest his cheekbone against his fist. He watched his friend pull two plates and a glass from the cabinet, and he winced at the noises the dinnerware created upon meeting the countertop. His abused skull protested the harsh sound violently. Roy raised his opposite hand to rub his eyes exasperatedly and huffed a sigh.

Burrowing into the refrigerator, Maes lifted his head to peer over the door and saw the grimacing man attempting to appear stoic. "You okay?" asked Maes.

"Did the doctor give you any painkillers for me, by chance?" Roy grunted.

Maes pulled a pumpkin pie from the refrigerator and set the dessert gently on the countertop before he retreated to the closet by the front door. He rummaged in his coat pocket until he found a small glass jar-like container full of capsules. On his journey back to the kitchen, he opened the container and shook out two capsules. He set the capsules in front of Roy on the table, and he placed the container in the cabinet he retrieved the drinking glass from earlier.

After Maes filled the glass with water, he dug out two forks and dished a piece of pie for Roy and himself. He joined Roy at the table. Roy popped the capsules into his mouth and quickly emptied the water glass into his mouth. While Maes began to eat his slice of pumpkin pie, Roy observed with barely-concealed repugnance. Maes swallowed a large gulp and asked, "What's the matter? Gracia made it; it's excellent!"

"I'm not really in the mood for... pie," Roy replied, twisting his nose like the food smelled unpleasant.

"Sure, you are!" Maes declared jovially. "Besides, you have to eat something with those painkillers and the rest of the food you got in this place is disgusting, so eat up!"

Scowling halfheartedly at the proud husband-and-father, Roy acquiesced and picked up his fork. After a moment of hesitation, he harpooned the dessert and stuffed his kill into his mouth. With the delectable concoction in his mouth, his present desire for pie skyrocketed; but he refused to allow his friend to see his defeat via pie. He attempted to maintain his façade of reluctance while he continued to eat; he was unsuccessful.

Maes glanced up at his friend and snickered. When Roy feigned a glare in questioning response, Maes replied, "For a guy not in the mood for pie, you're eating it pretty quickly."

Rather than devising a witty retort, Roy paused a moment before muttering, "Oh, shut up."

The two finished the desserts in comfortable silence. Maes cleaned the dirtied dishes-and absentmindedly washed the other unclean dishes waiting in the sink, as well-while Roy inquired to what he missed at work during his absence. While Maes chattered on about the colonel's subordinates' reactions to his absence, Roy listened with mild amusement. As expected, his friend's tales soon turned to his family.

"And Gracia was making pies for Christmas today, so as soon as she heard you were in the hospital, she made another one-just for you! Elicia was worried about her Uncle Roy, so poor Gracia almost didn't get the chance to even finish your pie because she wanted to see you so bad!" Maes smiled to himself, visibly proud of the kindness and compassion of his family.

No matter how much Maes spoke of his family, he always managed to find a new development to share with his comrades. If provided the opportunity to discuss his wife and daughter for days on end, he would still have more to say when the time period ended. Only when Maes abused the military phone lines to call Roy for such conversations did Roy grow irritated by his friend's pride, but the annoyance he felt was merely on a professional level. When neither needed to work, Roy thoroughly enjoyed hearing Maes' stories about his family. In fact, Roy secretly felt slightly envious. His friend's undeniable happiness was intoxicating, and Roy was certainly happy for him, but Roy longed for such a connection. Unfortunately, Roy's goal to be Fuhrer required his full attention so a healthy relationship with another person was nearly impossible. Maes, of course, was more than willing to share his joy with his best friend, and Roy was silently grateful to be included in the happy little world.

Roy turned his chair so he could listen to his friend and simultaneously watch Elicia snooze on the couch in the adjacent living room. Her head rested on the armrest of the couch, and her dainty arms hugged a large white teddy bear to her torso. Her face snuggled into the crown of the bear's head like she was kissing the fur. Without a blanket, her legs were folded close to her body and teddy bear for warmth.

A faint smile tugged at Roy's lips as he watched the angelic little girl's chest rise and fall peacefully with sleep. Meanwhile her proud father's voice continued to babble about Elicia's efforts to help Gracia with the pie to speed up the process and how adorable she looked after she rubbed her cheek with her flour-covered hand. Several minutes passed, and Roy felt his eyelids grow heavier and his vision began to blur. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Hey, Maes?" Roy interrupted.

The man, finished with the dishes and leaning against the counter to talk animatedly, paused. "Yeah?"

"Are those pills supposed to make me groggy?"

"What?" When Maes realized what Roy was referring to, he replied, "Oh! Yeah! Yeah, they are! Why? Are you getting tired?"

Stifling a yawn, Roy hummed, "Mm-hmm."

"Do you want to go lay down?"

"Nah, I should be fine on the couch for a while." Roy pulled himself to his feet and directed himself toward the welcoming article of furniture. Maes fell into stride with him, but he did not offer assistance since Roy seemed to be walking well on his own. While Roy shuffled slowly, he was able to maintain his balance.

When Roy crossed the threshold of the living room, his foot caught on Elicia's bag of toys her father brought for her to play with during her stay. As his torso toppled forward, Maes unceremoniously grabbed the back of Roy's shirt and dragged him upright before he lost his footing entirely. Roy gathered his bearings for a moment, and he proceeded forward more cautiously.

Maes patted Roy's back and chuckled, sounding winded from the brief state of alarm, "I've gotcha, buddy." His hand remained stationed at Roy's shoulder for the duration of the journey.

Roy sat on the opposite end of the couch from the sleeping girl, so he would not disturb her slumber. Maes occupied the space in between his friend and his daughter, outstretching his arms behind him to rest along the back of the couch. He gazed down at his beloved daughter and smiled fondly.

"She looks just like Gracia, doesn't she?" Maes admired fondly.

While he enjoyed his friend's company, Roy preferred to rest in peace. If his daughter woke up, she would surely shatter the desired tranquility of his apartment. Although she was a polite child, Roy predicted his abused head would prefer utter silence for a while upon wakening. "Speaking of which, when is she going to finish wrapping those presents?"

Laughing softly at the subtle hint, Maes assured, "It should be any time now." He reached down and brushed Elicia's hair from her eyes tenderly. "She'll probably want to see how you're doing when she wakes up in the morning," he noted. "Do you mind if I bring her by with me when I check on you?"

Fighting the fatigue threatening to overtake his senses, Roy replied sluggishly, "I guess." He groaned an extensive yawn. "If you want a blanket for her, there's one in my closet she can use."

Maes glanced at his daughter and concluded to accept his friend's offer. He retreated to the bedroom and reemerged with the blanket in tow. He unfolded the soft blanket over his daughter, and he verified that he left no foot or hand uncovered before he was satisfied.

"Thanks, Roy," he whispered as he reoccupied his place on the couch. Maes jumped in surprise when he felt a weight press into his left shoulder. He turned and discovered Roy had fallen asleep during his brief absence and the movement of the couch upon sitting coaxed his friend's relaxed form into leaning on him.

Roy's head lolled forward so his chin rest on the shoulder connected to Maes'. His level respiration moved his torso slightly with each breath. His years of military dedication which usually aged his face melted away with his serene slumber, returning the childlike face to the colonel.

Maes concluded not to wake Roy-not that he could if he tried due to the medication-and allow him to remain in his position; he merely smiled.


	2. Optional Extended Ending

**[Author's Note]** Please keep in mind that this is an OPTIONAL extended ending. It's a tad depressing if the main bulk of it made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So if you liked the previous ending, just don't read this. Thanks for reading what I've written so far, I hope you enjoyed it, and have a Merry Christmas!** [/Author's Note]**

Roy felt vaguely aware of the touch to his shoulder, an outside force gently moving his exhausted body as he slept. When he felt the weight of a blanket lowering over his legs, he realized he was no longer on his apartment couch. His consciousness trudged through his fatigue, and he realized he was in a lit room. He grew mentally frustrated at his friend for not exercising the courtesy of leaving the lights off while Roy attempted to rest.

He inhaled deeply to draw oxygen to his brain so he could wake more easily.

A body stirred elsewhere in the room, barely within Roy's perception.

"Sir?" he heard his female lieutenant whisper.

When did she arrive? Why was she not visiting her family for Christmas?

Roy cracked his eyes open. "Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he rasped. "What are you doing here?"

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God..."

He reached up a hand and scrubbed his eyes to discover a tube protruding from his skin. He stared at the medical instrument for several moments in complete bewilderment. When he managed to pull his eyes from the site, he glanced around and discovered himself in the room of a hospital.

"What's going on?" Roy asked dizzily as he attempted to sit up.

Riza stood from her seat beside his bed to softly push down on his chest to force him to remain laying on the bed. "Easy, sir, you're still pretty heavily medicated."

His eyebrows scrunched together as he lowered his back to the mattress, and Roy eyed her carefully. "How did I get here?"

Reaching over to remove the I.V. from his path, she replied, "You were trying to control a riot, and you were shot in the stomach. The gunman hasn't been found yet, but the men are still searching." When her superior continued to watch her suspiciously, she added bitingly, "They won't get away with this; the shot nearly killed you."

Roy rested his head against the pillow and attempted to sift through his memories. The world spun around him, scrambling his thoughts into countless fragments. Since he last remembered speaking with Maes in his apartment, Roy determined Maes could fill the blanks in his memory. "Where's Maes?" Roy grumbled.

Riza furrowed her eyebrows in concern, and she did not respond for several moments. "Sir... Brigadier General Hughes was murdered ages ago..."

Reality hit Roy like a bullet train, and his memories returned in a flood. Maes' death, the riot, and the attack his friend helped him recover from days before Christmas. Nightmares of the war against Ishval were the only visions Roy saw at night, and he rarely conceived pleasant dreams. The memory Roy dreamed of was disturbingly vivid, and he may have denied the validity of his hospitalization if an Amestrian other than Riza delivered the news.

He cast his eyes down to his hands, avoiding his lieutenant's gaze. The grief of Maes' death struck him anew, and Roy raised his hand over his eyes to mask the forming tears he fought. He drew a deep breath and sighed, "Right."

Abdomen aching from his healing injury and the stitches pulling vengefully, Roy slowly turned to lay on his left side to avoid facing Riza. He tilted his head to bury his face in his pillow.

"Sir?" Riza asked softly. "Are you all right?"

After waiting several moments to decide on an appropriate definition of "all right," Roy whispered, "I'm fine."


End file.
